


Café At The End Of The Fucking World

by stars_fall_on



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24026308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_fall_on/pseuds/stars_fall_on
Summary: Just a sweet, little story, about how fate is working its magic sometimes, bringing Mickey and Ian together in a Café at the end of the fucking world.Or: Ian has completely lost his way and Mickey is there to serve him scrambled eggs and pancakes.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 221
Kudos: 281





	1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with a little Gallavich Coffeeshop AU <3 The story is completed and with my beta at the moment. I get the edited chapters day by day, so this story will be posted regularly, don't worry <3
> 
> This story is based on the novel of John P. Strelecky "The Why Are You Here Cafe". I thought about calling the fic "The Why The Fuck Are You Here Café", but this would've been too easy, right? ;)
> 
> Also, all the wise and clever advices are coming from the author of the book and aren't mine - At least, not all of them :-P I just added a fluffy Gallavich lovestory to it!
> 
> A special thanks to @Erikutta for being my beta. I know these times are stressful, even with all the Big Bang stuff coming up. So thanks for snuggling in some time for me <3
> 
> And now - enjoy this sweet, little universe! We start with a short Prologue. Chapters will get a bit longer.

"Come on, Curtis, don't be like that," an old, bad smelling man breathes into his ear, grabbing his ass and grinding him further down. A shudder runs down the redhead's spine, and not in a good way. He's disgusted from the hands that grope him everywhere they reach; disgusted from the man's stinking breath on his skin; disgusted from the hard on, that's poking into his ass; disgusted from the wet spot forming on the man's pants; disgusted that _he's_ the reason for it. "I'll give you a little extra."  
  
"No," he insists, his voice stern, his face blank, as his hips keep rolling in the dark of their booth. He keeps thinking about the money, and how this will help his family to pay their bills, to not slap this arrogant asshole in the face, "Told you. I'm not a whore and this is no escort service."  
  
The man grips his ass cheeks tighter, looking up at him with a half angry, half turned on glint in his eyes and licking with his tongue a fat stripe up his neck. "You are, though. I feel how you like it. You want my dick and you want my money. Come on, give me that little ass of-"  
  
The guy doesn't finish the sentence, since Ian headbutts him and probably breaks his nose in the process. He fucking hates when someone thinks he owns his body and can do with it whatever he likes. It's what gets Ian's blood to boil.  
  
" _Ow_ , you motherfucker!" the man screams in pain, when Ian hops off his lap, panting hard just from the rage that's building inside him. He’s not only seeing red from the blood that's streaming out of the customer's nose, but also red of rage and red for the rest of the night. Floyd, his boss, probably won't let him work for the rest of the night. That's a few hundred bucks he's not going to bring home. _Fuck_. 

"I swear, you won't have a job anymore, you fucking cunt. You're dead! I'm gonna destroy you, you fucking asshole. You're nothing more than a filthy whore!" the man spits, while Tom and Diego, the two built bouncers from the Fairy Tale, come rushing towards them.  
  
"Fuck, Curtis, what did you do?" Tom, who gets along with Ian pretty well, asks him, helping the customer up, but keeping his arms in a tight grip.  
  
Ian steps back, his nostrils flaring from the deep breaths he's taking, "This perv sexually harassed me! Touched me everywhere and wanted me to go home with him," he defends himself, glad that the rest of the club doesn't seem to notice the little revolt.  
  
"Sir, I need you to leave the club, please. This is not a bordello and our dancers are not prostitutes."  
  
"He punched me in my fucking face!" the man yells enraged, "he broke my fucking nose! Fire him!"  
  
"Sir, either you leave the club on your own or we'll have to carry you outside," Diego’s the one to now throw in, much to the man's chagrin. 

But the guy keeps yelling and squirming, enraged in Tom's and Diego's tight grip. "This house will never see me again. You'll never get my money, again. I swear, I'm gonna destroy you, you faggy faggot!" he spits one last time at the redhead, before being escorted to the exit.  
  
Ian steps to the bar to get a water, downing everything within a few gulps and trying to get a hold on his frustration. He slams the glass back down and takes a look around. Is this really everything? Everything life has to give? The only thing he can be?  
  
His eyes settle on the back of the club where Floyd is coming out of his office, waving him over. Ian knows what's about to happen. He'll have to endure a lecture and hopefully won't get fired. He's usually good in Floyd's book, the best dancer here. That's why he clings on the string of hope to keep his odd job.  
  
With one quick nod to himself, he straightens his back and walks towards the middle aged, baldheaded man, who waits with crossed arms in the open door frame for him. "Ian, sit down," he tells him, pointing to the seat opposite of his desk. His voice is low, he's definitely not amused.  
  
Even though everything in him screams to not sit down, since this is always the beginning of a bad conversation, he plops down anyway, exhausted from his last lapdance. It's probably only 10:00 or 11:00 pm now, but it feels like he has gone through the whole shift already.  
  
Floyd takes his seat across from him and folds his hands on the desk, looking at him sternly. Fuck, he can't lose this job, even if it's a shit job. But he has to pay the bills at home and also the insurance for his medication. What else should he do without a degree? Go back to the Kash and Grab? Fuck no!  
  
"Ian, I heard what happened, and I’ll be honest with you, I'm not very pleased. Mr. Thompson was one of our best customers."  
  
"Floyd, I can explain," the redhead starts defending himself desperately, "This guy harassed me! He touched me where -"  
  
"I know, Ian, I know," the other man reassures him, "Still, you headbutted him and probably broke his nose. I can't let this news spread around."  
  
"Please, Floyd, don't fire me, I need this job."  
  
The baldheaded man huffs a laugh, "Ian, I won't fire you. What you did was shit, but truth be told, you're the best dancer here. People come to see you."  
  
"So I can keep my job?" Emerald, green eyes spark full of hope, a heavy weight falling off his chest.  
  
"You can keep it. But you're suspended for two weeks. Hopefully this shit is settled until then and Mr. Thompson doesn't bring a charge against you or the club."  
  
Ian wants to protest, because he can't lose two weeks of money. But then, it's probably for the best if he keeps his mouth shut right now, nodding his understanding, remorseful. "Don't worry about the charge, Floyd," Ian says as he gets up to go get his things, "Mr. Thompson is a closeted, married man. He won't accuse us."  
  
With one weak smile he strides out of his office and into the changing area to pack his shit and get away from here. He's so full of bad energy and not ready to get home now. He needs to get away for a bit. Somewhere where he can calm down and recharge his batteries. He’s felt worn out for weeks, maybe even months now. Perhaps getting away from this job for two weeks won't be so bad after all.  
  
Since he has his car with him, he decides to take a short road trip. He wants to go somewhere that shifts his focus back to normal and eases his keyed up nerves. He just has no idea where this journey is going to take him. Absolutely _no one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I'd like to chat with you guys about it ;)
> 
> Please leave a kudo and/or comment. Thank you very much.
> 
> xox


	2. Chapter 2

Lake Michigan. That's where he wants to go. It holds a special place in his heart since his mom took him and his siblings there twice, when she'd been a good mom for a few days. Sadly those days were rare.  
  
He misses Monica. She's never been a good mom, hell no. Fiona always was way better in this role, even at the sweet age of 9. But she's still his mom and she shared her disorder with him. Well, at least until she overdosed and died a year ago. It hit Ian square in the chest, it was probably the hardest for him than all his other siblings. Not only was he sad about losing his mother, but also horrified of this being his future. His fate as someone with bipolar disorder. As a Gallagher with fucked up genes, he's bound to lose it at some point, right?  
  
But being at Lake Michigan will give him the unfamiliar feeling of being grounded, again. It was only two days. But in those days, he was truly happy. They were there as a family. Even Frank was with them and pretended to be a caring father for the few hours, he was high and wanted to impress Monica. And maybe little Ian knew this already, but it didn't matter. Not to him. He tried to soak up every happy energy he could gather, tried to pretend to live an ordinary life with his ordinary family. Just another day at the beach with sunscreen, ice cream, and sandals. He knew right then, that everything’s gonna be okay. Until, two days later, it wasn't anymore and Monica was gone once again.  
  
All that was left was the feeling of having to create this magical feeling of 'Everything's gonna be okay' for his whole life. It feels like he's running after a ghost. Something he'll never get and achieve.  
  
He had resigned himself to this a long time ago. It’s okay. He is still kind of happy in his life. How couldn't he be? He has his family, friends, a shitty job - but a job nevertheless, a roof over his head, and a calming routine he pursues day after day. He also works out a lot, which gives him the rush of adrenaline he sometimes needs and every now and then also gets to hook up with some hot guy he’s met on Grindr. Just sex, nothing more. Plus he’d never fuck someone he's met in the Fairy Tale. It would be too risky to mix business with pleasure. And mostly because there are just geriatric viagroids who get off on younger boys. Or men, in Ian's case. At 26 he can't call himself a boy anymore, even though he misses the good old days when he thought everything was possible for him to achieve. God, this boy would be so disappointed with his life right now.  
  
For once, he just wants to forget about all that for a while; wants to feel the 'everything's gonna be okay' emotion on Lake Michigan where once - everything was okay for him, even if only for the night or maybe the next day. He'll text Lip to not worry about him, that he'll be back no later than tomorrow evening. He has a bit of money on him, gas in his car, and his pills in his backpack. He's good. He's fine. Everything's gonna be okay.  
  
  
  
  
"Fucking fuck!" he curses, punching the wheel of his car and honking the horn in process. It doesn't matter, though, every standing vehicle next or in front of him is doing the same.  
  
He's in a full blown traffic jam, not going anywhere for a solid 25 minutes. He wanted to relax for once, wanted to find peace and calm and silence. And now he finds himself in the middle of the Highway between cursing and annoyed people. He himself is just a small link in a long chain of discontent. He's exhausted.  
  
After another 25 minutes, in which no car moved forward, a police car finally drives along the median, between the parked cars right and left. The car stops every few hundred meters, probably telling people what's going on.  
  
When the automobile finally stops at Ian's, a policewoman uses a speaker to explain the situation. A tanker truck with potentially toxic cargo has tipped over a few miles ahead of them and the road is now completely closed until the cleanup is complete. Annoyed sighs make its round, Ian included. She also explains that there's the possibility to turn around and take another route. Otherwise they would have to wait an hour or two until it's safe to drive again.  
  
"Fucking shit," the redhead cusses his fate. What a fucked up night. Even his phone died out, after he sent his last text to Lip. He can't even use Google maps now to find the best route. He only knows _this_ route, that's closed now. How can he get there all by himself?  
  
Maybe it's better for him to call it a night, drive back home and crawl into the safety of his bedroom that he still shares with Carl. Pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, he lets out a frustrated groan and counts from ten to zero, regulating his breathing. If he turns around now, the last hour was for nothing. He'll wake up completely pissed tomorrow about his shit luck and probably won't get out of bed. This could trigger a special emotion in him, one he doesn't even want to think of. Plus his siblings would start to worry about him and set him up for a medical checkup in the clinic.  
  
No. People drove around the world all the time on their own, way before Google Maps was invented. And Lake Michigan isn't a small spot that's easy to miss. There will probably be plenty of street signs around. He'll do this! He _can_ do this! 

He turns his car around and drives off the highway. He's fine. Everything's gonna be okay.  
  


  
  
"Goddamn it, why does everything always have to suck?" he screams frustrated inside his car. It's dark outside and he's in the middle of fucking no where. No other cars are around, no houses, no shops, not even street lights. He has lost his way completely and now will lose probably even more time, than if he just would've waited on the highway for one or two hours. "Why is this always happening to me? Huh?"  
  
He snorts a frustrated laugh about his own stupidity and the ridiculousness to talk to himself and hope for an answer. "God, you're crazy, Ian. Fucking nuts," he sighs while turning his wheel left, hoping for it to be the better direction there, "You've just proven it again."  
  
He drives for another ten minutes on this lonesome and dark street, pitying himself about this terrible night and his failed decisions. Maybe his ordinary and boring life isn't so bad at all. He's craving the loud Gallagher household right now.  
  
When he comes to another crossroad, he stops in the middle, looking left and right and breathes in deeply. "Where the fuck am I?" he asks himself loudly, having no clue where to go from here. Since he has no better plan to come up with, he closes his eyes and tries to follow his heart. And his heart goes for right.  
  
He turns his wheel and drives a few more miles further into the darkness until fucking finally, he spots a streetlight. This has to mean something, right? There has to be something.  
  
Getting closer to the little luminescent dot at the end of the road, he also sees a white, rectangular building and to his surprise, even two cars parked in front of it. Lights shine from the inside out and yellow neon letters flash as if they're defective. But at least they flash.  
  
"The Café of Questions" is the name on this dubious building at the end of the fucking world and Ian wonders from where people are coming to visit it. Not like it's in anyone's neighborhood. At least not that Ian noticed since he didn’t see any houses here. Maybe the guests on the inside have also lost their way and ask for help.  
  
When Ian parks his car on the gravel path in front of the Café, it's the first time he hears and feels his stomach rumbling. He hasn't even noticed that he's starving before, so it probably won't be such a bad idea to take a short break, eat something and ask for directions.  
  
He gets out of his vehicle and stretches his aching body. Throwing his grey hood from his hoodie over his head, he locks the car, and walks up to the entrance.  
  
As he steps through the door, the little bells above announce his arrival. There's a surge of appetizing scents in the air hitting his nose and provoking another growl of his stomach. It looks like an American restaurant from the 1950s. Chrome-plated bar stools with red seats are lined up over a long, grubby counter. There's a row of red niches beneath the front windows. In the middle of each table are sugar dispensers, small silver milk jugs, and matching salt and pepper shakers placed. Everything seems very cozy, like a place you would hang out and chat with friends for a long time. Only that Ian's here alone.  
  
Well, not alone _alone_ , because three other customers are sitting on the stools of the bar - probably two friends and another customer - and the waitress, a woman, probably around Ian's age, with long dark hair, pink and blue strands, blue eyes, a piercing in her nose, and a face full of makeup, is standing behind the counter, leaned forward to talk to them.  
  
When she notices Ian's arrival, her face lights up and she walks around to come up to him. The redhead notices her extraordinary style, with black fishnet tights under black shorts and a black t-shirt. She's different from any other waitress he's seen before, yet she doesn't look unfamiliar or not fitting for this place. She's probably the perfect waitress for this strange café.  
  
"Hey," she greets him smilingly, chewing on her bubble gum, "please take a seat wherever you want."  
  
Ian tries to get a grip on the frustration that has built up in him over the past few hours, since it isn't this girl’s fault he smiles weakly back at her. He nods once and chooses a booth with a view of the bar. He plops down into the vinyl seat, only noticing now how new everything looks.  
  
"My name is Mandy, how are you?" The brunette woman stops in front of him, radiating positive energy in every smile and move.  
  
"Hey Mandy," the redhead starts, wondering since when a waitress introduces herself to the customers. He decides not to think about it, he's too thirsty and hungry to care. "I'm Ian, and I'm a bit lost."  
  
"You definitely are," she returns with a mischievous grin. The way she says it, he isn't sure if she refers to his name or that he's lost his way. "What brought you here, Ian?" she asks further, taking Ian by surprise.  
  
"Well, I was in my car on the highway and wanted to get to Lake Michigan. But then a tanker truck with potentially toxic cargo tipped over and I had to take another route. The battery of my phone died and so I tried to find the way on my own. Well, the rest is history," he sighs, still dumbfounded by his shit luck.  
  
"Huh," she huffs, stemming her hands in her hips, "Well, let's see if we can help you here," she says, winking at him. "But first off all, you look hungry. Are you hungry, Ian?"  
  
"Starving."  
  
With a glint behind her beautiful blue eyes, she swipes the menu from a counter next to the entrance and hands it to the redhead. Ian takes it to choose one of the things on there. "Let’s get you a drink first. How's that sound?" she asks him with a sweet grin on her lips. Lip would have had a thing for her. He's glad he's not here and Mandy is safe from the dick that is his brother.  
  
"Awesome," he returns, giving her his best smile, "I'll have a water and a coke, please."  
  
When Mandy walks away, Ian takes the menu in his hands and reads it over.  
  
"Welcome to the 'Cafe of Questions'. Before ordering, please ask our service staff for advice on what your time here could mean."  
  
"Hope it means I get something good to eat," Ian murmurs to himself. He opens the menu, to find the usual dishes listed. Even though it's almost 1:00 in the morning, his stomach craves breakfast. He decides on one and closes the menu, finding three questions fat printed in the middle of the backside cover.  
  
 _Why are you here?  
Are you afraid of death?  
Do you live a fulfilled life?_  
  
What kind of café has he found himself in? Why are they asking customers things like that? He remembers it's called 'Café of Questions' so it's probably their unique selling point, but still, it's weird.  
  
Ian blinks a few times and pushes the menu away, watching Mandy returning with his Coke and water.  
  
"You good?" she asks, when she's approaching him, placing the two drinks on a coaster.  
  
"Yeah," he mutters, eyes landing once again on the questions on the menu, "just curious about that. What do they mean?"  
  
"Means whatever you want them to mean," she smirks and takes out a pad of paper and a pen from her back pockets, "What can I get you, Ian?"  
  
Ian scans the menu again, checking his choice one more time and finding himself staring at the note he's already read, "And what does that mean?" he points at the sentence at the top of the page, still not getting why he should ask for advice.  
  
Mandy raises her brows and clicks her tongue smilingly. "Well, that means that we learned over the past few years, that people find themselves changing in here," she takes a quick look over her shoulder, as laughter fills the room. "And we thought it was so great that we now try to lay ground for this process to happen, by getting people in the mood for what they may find here."  
  
At this point, Ian isn't sure anymore if she's talking about the food, a customer service rating, or something completely different. He finds himself in the state of utter confusion. Mandy seems to notice. "Look, tell me what you want and I will ask the chef if he thinks that's your best choice."  
  
Ian creases his forehead. What is with this fucking place? "Alright," he agrees, confused, since his stomach is still grumbling unceasingly, "I'll have the big breakfast."  
  
"That what you want?"  
  
"Uh.. _Yes_?"  
  
"Alright," she scribbles it down on her pad, "let's see what my brother has to say to that." She turns to go back to the pass-through of the bar to hand in his order. It's then that Ian notices, she has left the menu on the table in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Mickey - woop, woop! <3
> 
> Thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now - meet Mickey <3

As Mandy's approaching the pass-through of the bar, Ian notices for the first time that there's a room behind it where a black haired man is standing. He can only see his muscular back, before the brunette girl hands him his order. Tattooed fingers wrap around the piece of paper, while Mandy obviously talks to her brother about him. Ian swallows a lump down his throat, shifting uncomfortably on his red vinyl seat.  
  
Suddenly ice blue eyes lock with his green ones and he isn't able to breathe properly for a few seconds under the man's intense gaze. The brunet, and definitely good looking man, nods at him with raised brows, and Ian hesitantly nods back, holding his stare. A hint of familiarity hits him, but he can't place it. It's weird. An unfamiliar feeling starts pooling at the pit of his stomach, but he isn't able to get a grip on the emotion. Luckily the man turns back to his sister to talk to her, before Mandy turns around and winks at the redhead. Before he's able to fully understand what the fuck is happening, Mandy hops back to his table.  
  
"Alright, my douchebag brother thinks you can take it."  
  
"W-what?" he stammers, her words throwing him into a wild imagination involving her brother, but definitely not what she's referring to.  
  
"He says it's a lot, but he thinks you're a big boy and able to take it. "  
  
With a sharp intake of breath, Ian rearranges his thoughts, knitting his brows in perplexity, before his imagination is once again disrupted, "So breakfast for champions, then. Coming."  
  
Finally reality clicks back in and Ian is thankful for the distraction of the deep pull his mind is constantly dragging him in. Did he really just -?  
  
"You alright, pretty boy?" the brunette girl snaps her fingers in front of his face, sitting down opposite of him in the booth, "you look as if you've seen a ghost."  
  
The redhead smiles shyly, taking a sip of his coke. "Nah, sorry, I'm uh - I'm alright. Probably just my blood sugar being low," he gets out and locks his gaze with hers, "And if you don't mind me saying, this place is a lot to take in." His hand and eyes find their way back to the backside of the menu, scanning once again over the three questions written there.  
  
 _Why are you here?_

_Are you afraid of death?_

_Do you live a fulfilled life?_  
  
It feels so fucking strange for a restaurant to ask these kind of questions their customers. Shouldn't the owner of the restaurant _know_ why people come here? It's why they even have a job in the first place. People are hungry, _that's_ why they're here. And also, shouldn't people who get here, _know_ why _they're_ here?  
  
His mind has no time to wander to the next two questions, when Mandy interrupts him, "You know, it's one thing to read the question, but it's a completely different one to get it," she taps her blue colored nail on the first line.  
  
"Seems so, cause I don't think I get it," Ian shrugs nonchalantly, taking another sip of his Coke.  
  
"Thought so," the girl chuckles, crossing her arms in front of her on the table, "try not to read it without meaning. Change it, so that the question fits for you."  
  
Still confused, the redhead raises an eyebrow at her, before lowering his gaze back on the menu. This girl, or this whole place seems kind of crazy, but he still likes her somehow.  
  
 _Change it, so that the question fits for you._  
  
Why are you here?  
  
Why are you here?  
  
Why am I here?  
  
Why are you - Wait. _What?_  
  
For a second, Ian could've sworn the letters changed from "You" to an "I" and without still getting the depth of this question, a huge overwhelming pang of uncertainty hits him. He releases a shuddered breath, that he didn't know he had in him.  
  
"That's what I'm talking about. To read the question is one thing. But to let your mind wander further down the path when you truly realize the meaning of the question, will change your whole life. You'll wake up, asking yourself the question every day. It will haunt you, until you find an answer to it," Mandy's voice is completely calm and friendly, but her words still emit a cold shudder going down Ian's spine. It's the first time Ian lets the word 'existence' beset his brain.  
  
"So why would I do that?" he asks, his face stern, "Why should I ask myself the question if it's only going to make me feel miserable until I find an answer to it? I've never questioned myself like that and I'm fine."  
  
"Really?" Mandy smirks somehow knowingly at him, leaning back in the seat, "Are you fine, Ian?"  
  
Suddenly Ian is flooded with a completely different kind of emotion. _This is ridiculous_. He was on the road to get out of Southside, out of his job and life for a few days. He wanted to charge his batteries, not thinking about his dull life, his annoying job, his ever struggling family or his mental illness. And now he finds himself sitting in the booth of a restaurant in the middle of fucking nowhere, talking about the meaning of some words written on a menu. He should definitely check his meds. 

Just when he's pondering getting up and leaving the restaurant, he hears a _ding_ coming from the kitchen. His food and his grumbling stomach persuade him to stay. He can still leave afterwards.  
  
The redhead looks past Mandy, waiting for his food to appear in the pass-through of the kitchen. But instead he finds it balancing on the hands of the brunet, who's swaggering his way to Ian's table, his eyes glued on him. The man with the most beautiful blue eyes he's ever seen, doesn't wear a uniform or apron, as might be expected from a cook. He just has some baggy jeans hanging on his hips and a black T-shirt. The only kitchen-related thing is the dish-towel hanging loosely on his shoulder. Being served has never been so sexy. The prickling in his stomach gets even wilder. He seems to be _really_ hungry.  
  
"Hey asswipe," he says as he comes to a halt beside Ian's table, "Kate's waiting for your ass over there. Go enlighten people with your wonderful presence, who at least asked you to."  
  
Mandy rolls her eyes and scoots out of the booth, flipping her brother off, before making her way to the bar.  
  
"She bothering you?"  
  
Intimidated by blue shiny eyes, he answers, "No," a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, when he finds Mickey's eyes on him. The brunet sets down various plates with all kinds of different food: scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit, ham and cheese toasted sandwich, roasted potatoes, cereal, pancakes, and apple pie. "Whoa, that all for me?" He has no idea how to eat that much food.  
  
"Yup," the handsome man sucks in his bottom lip, his eyebrows climbing high, "special breakfast for you."  
  
"I can't eat that all."  
  
"You can," the brunet reassures him, his intensive stare once again sending a shiver down Ian's spine, while he can't shake the feeling off that he's already seen him before, "You have time. Plus, sometimes you don't even know how ready you are for something to fulfill you."  
  
The chef is already on his heels to turn around, when Ian stops him, "What's your name?" he asks, because he couldn't come up with a better plan to make him stay. But he decides that knowing his name might be a good start.  
  
"Mickey."  
  
 _Mickey_. He already likes that sound.  
  
"I'm Ian," the redhead says, slightly irritated with his own behavior to introduce himself to the chef of the diner he's eating.  
  
"I know," Mickey shrugs, a cheeky glint sparkles behind those ocean blue eyes. If Ian wouldn't get to Lake Michigan in the end, the blue of Mickey's eyes would at least be a fair compromise. Doesn't help that he's still bummed about the fact that Mickey knows his name. Probably from Mandy. Or does he know him?  
  
"Wanna help me out and eat with me?" he suggests, hoping to find out in a little chit chat. He's somehow intrigued by this guy. And having company while getting to know a bit more about the mysterious questions written on the menu wouldn't be so bad at all.  
  
A chuckle escapes those thick, red lips that Ian somehow can't keep his pupils off. "I can't eat the breakfast I just prepared for you," he says, pulling the dish-towel from his shoulder to play with it in his hands, "besides, you really fucking look like you need the food."  
  
This focuses Ian's attention back to the rumbling of his stomach, "Yeah, 3/4 maybe. But that's why I'm here, right? To eat." With a slight tap of his fingers on the menu where the question is printed, and a mischievous grin to Mickey, he takes his fork and dives into the eggs, his eyes never leaving the ocean. "Mhmmm," he moans, "That's so good. You should try."  
  
"Like I wouldn't fucking know how my eggs taste," Mickey rolls his eyes, but Ian catches him smiling nonetheless. With his next moan around the fork, he has him. "Alright, alright. Stop moaning as if you're watching porn, god damn it. It's eggs. It's disturbing," Mickey sits down on the seat across from Ian, taking the spot Mandy had occupied just moments ago. "From now on I'll have to think about my scrambled eggs while watching porn, thanks to your bony ass."  
  
Ian chuckles, "Gonna think about your eggs, too then." Bravely he wiggles his brows, flirting with the man he has barely talked to. But he feels a constant pull towards this strong connection he's receiving. And even if he doesn't really know the sexual orientation of his counterpart, he can still call it a silly joke.  
  
When he finds Mickey blushing just the slightest bit, the speed rate of his heart increases. Maybe finding this place wasn't so bad at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think about the story and where it's headed <3  
> Anyone find themselves in Ian's position?
> 
> Kudos and comments are very appreciated. Thank you <3


	4. Chapter 4

Ian digs his fork deeper in his scrambled eggs to take another bite. He pushes the plate a little into Mickey's direction, offering him a bite with raised brows, while chewing on his eggs and suppressing a moan. The younger man can see him biting the inside of his cheeks and rolling his eyes, before he gets up and gets himself utensils from the next counter, plopping down again and taking a fork full himself.  
  
"So," Ian starts, pleased that he got some hot company for breakfast in the middle of the night, "is this your Café, Mickey?"  
  
"It is," the man confirms with a nod, laying his fork down after only one bite.  
  
"And you're running it with your sister?"  
  
"And brother and his wife. They have the day shift today."  
  
"Huh," Ian ponders, dipping his sandwich in some ketchup and guiding it to his lips, "That's cool. Running a family business."  
  
Mickey watches him taking a bite, agreeing only with a slight shrug. Since the beautiful eyes keep staring at his lips, Ian figures he must've spread some ketchup there. His tongue darts out slowly, reaching the juicy spot and licking it from the corner of his mouth, his own pupils never leaving Mickey's eyes that are drawn to his lips. Ian would swear he sees the brunet swallow dryly when he finishes his clean-off.  
  
"And you're from here?" Ian asks further, ending the electric silence that took over them for this sweet, short moment.  
  
Blue snaps back up. "South Side," he answers, "born and raised."  
  
Now it's Ian's turn to swallow a gulp. He knew he had seen those blue eyes and pale porcelain skin before. He drops the fork. "I knew I had seen you before. Mickey. Mickey and Mandy,” he says out loud to recall his memory, “ _Oh_ -", some pieces of the puzzle fall into place, "and Iggy and Colin, right? You're the Milkoviches. You used to live a few blocks from my house."  
  
"Yup, Gallagher, that's us." Mickey smirks and Ian's heart stutters. He hasn't told him his last name. Mickey knew who he was the whole time. "We, uh," he quickly looks over his shoulder, as if checking that Mandy's still here, "we got out. Last time Terry got himself into prison again."  
  
"Oh yeah, heard about that," Ian answers, his voice getting lower, "attempted rape and manslaughter, right?"  
  
Mickey's eyebrows once again shoot up high, and Ian already notices that as a habit, whenever he doesn't know what to say. He also notices that he's overstepped the boundaries far too much.  
  
"Shit, I'm sorry. I-"  
  
"You're a nosy motherfucker, Gallagher," Mickey shrugs, taking his fork and digging it into the remaining scrambled eggs, "didn't know you wanna play twenty fucking questions, here."  
  
"It's called 'The Café of Questions', so I took my shot." Ian hopes his grin would ease the embarrassing situation he's created, before taking another bite of his toasted ham and cheese.  
  
"It is," Mickey agrees, tapping onto the three printed questions on the menu, "of _these_ questions."  
  
Once again Ian's eyes scan over the words.  
  
Why are you here?   
  
_Why am I here?_  
  
Are you afraid of death?  
Do you live a fulfilled life?  
  
His face hardens. "Yeah, Mandy already asked me why I'm here. If I'm fine."  
  
"You should ask it yourself."  
  
Ian's eyes snap from his last bite of eggs, to Mickey's, "I'm fine. Thank you very much," he hisses through gritted teeth, feeling the lie buzzing through his body, "do you ask that to all of your customers who come here to pay your bills?"  
  
The brunet snorts, "They don't come here to pay my bills, Gallagher. They come because they like my eggs,” he wiggles his brows and Ian snorts a laugh at his dorky joke, “ _and_ they strive for something bigger. Something more fulfilling."  
  
"That's why they come here? To the ‘Café of Questions’?"  
  
Mickey swallows his bite, before answering, "Some of them do, yeah," he lays the fork down to focus his attention fully on the redhead, "Is that the reason _you're_ here?"  
  
Ian is startled. He doesn't know how to answer this question. He actually doesn't even know what the hell he's doing here, how he even came here in the first place. If he's completely honest with himself, he has to admit that he's been wondering for years whether this was _all_ that life has to give? Or if there was anything else for him, waiting under the surface to break through. Something more fulfilling and meaningful.  
  
He didn't have a _bad_ life. After all, he had a roof over his head and a family that was always there for him, even some friends to hang out with. But nevertheless he somehow had the certain feeling that something and someone was missing.  
  
"It's precisely from _this_ feeling that people ask themselves the question," Mickey interrupts his thoughts, once again hitting him with his words, square in the chest. How could he know?  
  
"So this question is going to haunt me, until I find the answer, huh? Mandy said something like that." Ian leans back into the red vinyl seat, crossing his arms defensively in front of his chest.  
  
"No," the brunet answers, clicking his tongue and leaning forwards, his chest on the table, "You can still ignore it and go on with your life until you forget about this question and place." _And us_. It wasn't said, but that's what Ian’s instantly referring to. Could he ever forget about this place? These questions? Mandy and Mickey? He doesn't think so. He's pretty sure he doesn't even want to. He's somehow drawn magically to this man, miles away from forgetting about the blue of his eyes and his brash knuckles that shove the plate of pancakes closer to him.  
  
Mickey always wanting him to eat evokes a warm and fluttery feeling in his belly. His arms open back up and he leans closer again, dipping the bite in the syrup and taking a bite. "What happens, after I've found the answer? I live happily ever after?"  
  
"You think you'll live happily ever after on the South Side?"  
  
"That's why you're here, Mick? Is this your happily ever after?"  
  
Mickey snorts, looking to the right and averting his gaze, while stretching a little and leaning back. His leg grazes Ian's accidentally and both take in a sharp breath at the warmth. Ian could swear his leg is pressing harder against him for one second, before it's gone. "Close to," it's almost a whisper, that sends a shiver down Ian's spine, while blue eyes lock with green and Mickey bites down on his lip. This little gesture throws Ian's hormones into a loop. The redhead can't concentrate on anything else, until the brunet decides to speak up again, "As soon as someone knows why he's here, it will be harder for him not to fulfill his personal destiny."  
  
"Huh," Ian ponders his words again, while chewing on another bite, "That means it could worsen the situation, then," he thinks out loud, eyes on something above Mickey's shoulder, "You could go better without ever asking yourself the question. You could just go on as before, practically without letting the spirit out of the bottle." Now his eyes sink back on blue, his body immediately craving the contact.  
  
"You could do that. Some people choose to do that their whole life." Mickey shrugs before leaning closer again, his chest on the table, his foot pressing once again slighty into Ian's shin. The redhead's heart begins to stutter, "You wanna just go on as before, Ian?"  
  
Ian is once again stunned to silence, his eyes not even blinking, his jaw forgetting how to chew. One hour in this strange restaurant and Ian's life already took a turn. No, he doesn't want to go on like before. He doesn't want to go back to a life without blue eyes, porcelain skin, and knuckle tattoos that promise to fuck him up.  
  
"I'm gonna go check on the other customers," Mickey says and scoots out of the booth, leaving Ian and his breakfast of champions behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?! ;)
> 
> Thank you for leaving kudos and/or comments :-*


	5. Chapter 5

In Ian's head, thoughts are running wildly around, throwing him in a loop of endless questions. He looks at the menu and reads the question again. _Why are you here?_ It has a completely different meaning to him than the first time he read it, one that Ian can no longer ignore. Why was he here? What is the purpose of his existence? What does he want to do? What is missing in his life?  
  
He takes a sip from his Coke while his eyes are on Mickey, who is standing behind the bar pouring a drink for the two women sitting and chatting with Mandy.  
  
Something about this man fascinates him in a way he's never known before. His whole being consumes him, one look at the guy and he's unable to draw his attention back to anything else. His energy and ease and his whole 'fuck it' attitude are intriguing. Ian wishes he could be like that sometimes. Or have someone who grounds him when his mind is spiraling in an endless loop of worries and fear.  
  
He isn't surprised a bit when Mandy's already plopped down in the seat across from him and he didn't even notice her arrival before she starts talking to him. "You good, Ian?"  
  
His eyes snap back to Mandy's blue ones, the second most beautiful eyes he's ever seen. In the last angle of his view, he swears Mickey's gaze wanders to him, as soon as Ian's (half-) attention shifts to his sister. "Uh, yeah. Great actually. The breakfast is amazing, thank you."  
  
"You seem in a way better mood now. Your skin is already getting some color back," she smiles, leaning forward to pat him lightly on his cheek. He doesn't tell her that the slight blush that's creeping up his neck has something to do with blue eyes that are still watching him from behind the bar.  
  
Nevertheless, though, she's right. He's in a far better mood now than he was when he arrived at this place. He hasn’t had a second thought that he wasted his time with this spontaneous journey. Or that he would rather lie in his bed at home right now. Actually, he's now exactly where he wants to be. And nowhere else.  
  
"Yeah, I am. I've got great company and a mountain full of delicious things in front of me."  
  
She chuckles genuinely and bravely Ian shifts his gaze to lock with Mickey's. As the brunet feels himself caught red handed, he sucks in his bottom lip to nibble slightly on the plump flesh and nods towards him. Ian smiles back.  
  
"You want some more company?" Mandy asks and Ian nods quickly, his eyes back on her. He just wishes Mickey would join them. But he doesn't admit it out loud. "You still have questions about this one?" Her fingers once again slide over the 'Why are you here?' line.  
  
"Actually, yeah, I do," he shrugs, because besides the thoughts he's having about Mickey, the questions won't let him go. "If someone questions themself as to why they’re here and somehow finds out the reason of their existence, what should they do with that knowledge then?"  
  
"Well, basically, the person can do whatever he wants with it," she shrugs nonchalantly as if it's the most logical thing in the world, "He found the answer and this knowledge belongs to him, now. He has ultimate and absolute control over what he's doing with it."  
  
"Well, I guess if I know why I'm here, I would like to live up to this purpose, right? But how?" Ian's attention is now fully back on Mandy and his own overwhelming thoughts. He feels the constant push into a certain direction. One, he knows he's never able to forget, once he's found all the answers to it.  
  
Questioningly, Ian stares at Mandy, getting the feeling that she might know something, but is waiting for him to figure it out on his own.  
  
"It's very different individually," she says. "Look, assuming you would like to be an artist in your free time, what kind of art would you do?"  
  
"Uhm, I don't know," he answers, "Depends on what I like, I guess. It could mean anything from photography to spray art or model making."  
  
"Mhmm .. would you do all of that?" she leans closer, pulling him deeper and deeper into this conversation.  
  
"Well, maybe I would," he states, staring blankly ahead, "At least at first to find out what I enjoy the most. But if I really like photography, for example, I would probably give myself to it."  
  
Since Mandy doesn't say anything in return, just grinning mischievously, Ian thinks briefly about his last words. "That's it? The big answer to the question?" His eyes go wide, "Once I know what I like and why I'm here, I should just do it?"  
  
As he utters those words, he feels an excitement seize him that's thrumming like electrical waves under his skin. As simple as it sounds, he has never allowed himself this point of view. He always thought he just had to do what he had the easiest access to, without much effort to get money. But he had forgotten that this could be something he really wanted to do.  
  
"Yup," Mandy clicks her tongue, "if the purpose of your existence is to help people, then do it. It can mean taking on a medical profession, but it can also mean trying to be more empathic and helpful to those around you, or to build medical accommodations in poor regions. There is no _one_ right answer, Ian."  
  
That sounds almost too easy. "What if I want to be a millionaire?" he challenges her, "What then?"  
  
Mandy doesn't look as if it's the first time she's heard that question. "Then you should do what you define as 'being a millionaire'. If that means surrounding yourself with millionaires, do it. If you want to become one, work a lot."  
  
Ian lets her words sink in, his eyes wandering once again to the man, leaning on the counter of the bar and talking to his guests with the most beautiful smile Ian has ever seen. "I just want to have enough money to support my family and live an ordinary life," he whispers, as if he's shared his biggest secret with her, "I don't want to be a millionaire. I just want -," he sighs. What does he want? His pupils take Mickey's being in. He wants that. To be like Mickey. Or to be with Mickey? Hell, this conversation confuses him more than he's able to process. He can't want to be with a man he barely knows. Shit, he doesn't even know his sexual orientation. His shoulders slump down, "I don't know what I want," he confesses, "But I long for something that fills me up." Or _someone_. "So far I haven't found or recognized it."  
  
Mandy's hand reaches for his on the table to give him a light squeeze. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You don't have to find the _one big thing_ , either. Many people find ten, twenty, or a hundred things that are bound to be the purpose of their existence and make them happy."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah," she smiles softly at him, filling him with a warmth that he only knew a long time ago, on the beach of Lake Michigan. 'Everything's gonna be okay.' "If you find out what you like to do, try it. Or just learn a lot about it. You will see, one will lead to the other."  
  
"And how do I find out?"  
  
"I don't know," Mandy's voice pitches high, as if she's getting excited about the answer, "Meditate, travel, do a hundred different things, ask gay Jesus, hell, there are plenty of ways to find out. Just be open to notice the little things."  
  
 _Just be open to notice the little things._ Like Mickey's ocean blue eyes? Or the way his eyebrows rise up whenever he's irritated. Or maybe the way he thumbs the corner of his mouth and nose when he's nervous. Or the way his teeth dig into the pump flesh of his lips when he doesn't know what to say. Jesus Christ, Ian is definitely fucked. _Or_ a stalker.  
  
He tries to shift his focus back on the conversation with Mandy, "Since I don't know exactly why I'm here and what I wanna do with my life, I do more or less what most people do," he shrugs.  
  
The brunette girl leans forward in her seat, "And do you enjoy doing what most people do?"  
  
Ian huffs a breath. No. His eyes travel over her shoulder, catching Mickey's eyes. Thinking about what he may have missed his whole life, this buzzing feeling of being alive, he probably didn't enjoy it as much as he thought he did.  
  
Once again the presence of this built man shuts him to silence. His whole being is just focusing on breathing, only his basic instincts working. Thinking about it like that, it's only logical that his sexual instinct is screaming for attention.  
  
"Let me tell you something, Ian," Mandy begins, her voice and face promting him to get a grip and not eye fuck her brother in the middle of their conversation. "When my brothers and I got out of the South Side, we had close to nothing. We all just needed a break from the life we had, so we just drove. Further and further away from Chicago, until we crossed a border and found ourselves on a beach in Mexico." Her eyes get this special spark, her whole face lighting up at the memory.

  
"We stayed for two weeks. Probably the best time of our lives," her head turns around to quickly nod at her older brother, who nods back, as if she's thanking him once again for the experience she was allowed to have. "I probably learned my biggest lesson there."  
  
Curious about the story, Ian leans closer, "You can't stop at that point, Mandy."  
  
She chuckles, "Calm your tits, I just needed a moment to reminisce. Alright, so -" she takes a deep breath, meeting him in the middle of the table, "I loved to snorkel in the clear blue water, swimming with all the colorful fish and finding beautiful coral. And once, I even saw a sea turtle paddling beside me. It was so beautiful that I wanted to follow her for a bit. I swam and paddled as fast as I could, but I couldn't keep up with her. After a few minutes, it was gone and I was sad.  
  
So the next day, I decided to try it again. I swam for a few minutes until a sea turtle appeared next to me. Again, I paddled with all my energy to keep up with it, but I noticed that it wouldn't work. So I stopped paddling and let myself float with the waves of the water. It's then when I saw it." Mandy smirks knowingly at him, making him even more curious. Again, she takes her sweet time.  
  
"Mandy," he warns impatiently, making her giggle.  
  
"The sea turtle used the power of the waves to its advantage. When a wave came and swapped in its face, it only paddled enough to hold its position in the water. When the wave flowed away from the shore, it paddled more eagerly to get ahead and use the current to her advantage," she tells him, eager eyes waiting for her explanation to sink in.  
  
But the redhead still doesn't fully know what to do with it, which conclusion to draw, "Uh.. It's a really nice story, Mands," _God, he called her Mands_! He hopes she won't mind. It just feels as if he's known this family for years, "But what does that have to do with the way people choose to live a fulfilled life?"  
  
The blue eyed girl shakes her head, lowering it on the table dramatically, "And I've put so much hope in you."  
  
He shoves her arms playfully from the table, "Okay, okay," he giggles, "give me a minute."  
  
"Tick tock."  
  
Ian runs his wet palms on his pants, hoping to get a grip on the answer, "So people who know why they're here and the purpose of their existence spend their time doing things that satisfy them," he starts summing up, "and people who don't know their purpose of existence also fill their time with a lot of things, but not with things that they enjoy. Right?"  
  
"So far, so good," she nods satisfied, "come on, you're on the brink of a bigger realization, Ian."  
  
He chuckles, trying to put all the pieces together, "I think with the sea turtle you wanted to tell me that if you aren't focused on what you wanna do, you waste your energy on a lot of other things. Then, when you get the opportunity to do what you want, you may not have the strength or time to do it anymore."  
  
Mandy claps her hands excitedly, "Yes! So many people try to demand our attention every day, wanting to steal our time and energy. Just think of the mail," she suggests, waving her hands in front of him, "If you were fully committed to every advertisement you receive, you'd no longer have free time. And that's just the mail," she states, still surprised about that fact, "If you'd add all people who want to draw your attention to something specific - for example, a television show, restaurants, travel destinations, etc - then all you're ever doing will soon be what everyone else is doing or expecting you to do."  
  
"So," Ian touches his creased forehead, "the waves rolling in are people, activities and things that try to win my attention, energy and time, but have nothing to do with my purpose of existence. And the backwashing waves are people, activities, and things that could help me accomplish my purpose. So the more time and energy I waste in the rolling waves, the less time and energy I have left for the ones flowing back."  
  
Mandy drums on the table, "Exactly!" she smiles triumphant, "And once you realize that, you have much more control over the choices of your life."  
  
The choices of his life...  
  
He looks at Mickey, finding him serving the blonde women another glass of red wine. They all look so happy, so free.  
  
Should he dare to ask Mickey out? Or would that be too forthcoming? He'd imply that he thinks that Mickey is gay, when in reality he has absolutely no idea about it. Though sometimes, he finds the ocean blue eyes lasting on him for a bit too long. Not that Ian would mind, god no! He gets a pleasurable tingling in the pit of his stomach, whenever he catches him.  
  
He'd really like to find out. Ask him out.  
  
And maybe he will. Maybe it will be the first time he's going to act self-determined and make his own choices without it being something that's expected from him.  
  
"Now, when I think about how others try to determine my life day after day, telling me how to be or what to do, I get sick," he admits quietly looking from Mickey back to his sister.  
  
Her face looks more serious now, as if she's respecting his honesty. She nods, "I think you should eat something again," she's slowly getting up from her seat, "getting some energy back."  
  
Blinking the dull realization away, he approves her suggestion, "Yeah, you're right. But, uh, can you maybe give me a piece of paper and a pen?"  
  
"Sure." She shrugs and leaves to go to the bar, talking to her brother, whose eyes are once again wandering to Ian, firing off some fireworks in his belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for leaving kudos and/or comments :-*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little update - hope you enjoy <3

Ian takes a big sip from his water, letting Mandy's story sink deeper into his mind. He picks up his fork and digs it into his roasted potatoes, taking a bite. "Mhmm," he hums satisfied, when the approaching someone startles him.  
  
"Mandy said you needed this," his voice pierces through him until it's reached the bottom of Ian's heart. How can anyone be this consuming?  
  
He nods and reaches for the paper and pen in Mickey's hand. His clumsy way of grabbing for it is probably his subconscious deliberately controlling him, since his fingers not only grip the two things in Mickey's hand, but also wrap briefly around his wrist. It sends a burning fire through his veins, as he also feels Mickey's pulse speeding up at the touch.  
  
"Uh, thanks," he smiles widely, completely forgetting his intention behind his demand.  
  
"What do you need it for?" Mickey questions, taking a seat across from Ian. His heart never pounded so happily before.  
  
When he slowly comes back to his senses after staring for a beat too long at the handsome man, he scribbles something down, telling Mickey to, "Hold up a minute."  
  
When he's done with the math he leans back defeatedly. "Huh," he huffs, stunned, staring down at the mind-blowing result laying on the table. "I've -" he starts hesitantly, "I've -"  
  
"You've what, Red?" Mickey raises his eyebrows in expectation, sucking in his bottom lip.  
  
Ian is unsure to share this, since it's revealing a side of him that he isn't very proud of. He's most definitely not impressing Mickey with this, but fuck it. Based on the fact that Ian would like to date this guy, it probably wouldn't help him starting with a lie.  
  
"84 days," he says, "or almost three whole months."  
  
"O- _kay_ ," Mickey agrees slightly irritated, "or two months and 24 days on average."  
  
Ian still stares at him perplexed, not saying anything.  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about, man," the brunet reminds him.  
  
"The amount of time I've worked in the Fairy Tale as a dancer, or stripper or whatever, since I've started there," he says, "84 days. That's the time I've spent nonstop in that shithole."  
  
Mickey clicks his tongue before poking it in the corner of his mouth, not saying a thing. Ian curses himself innerly for being so stupid to fuck it up before he's even taken his chance. He should've known from experience that this would scare him off, like most of the guys he's met. Maybe he should've waited, should've shown Mickey his good sides before bringing it up on the third or fourth date. But now it's too late. He can't take it back. He could even mention he's bipolar now. Like quickly ripping a bandaid off to get it over with. Wouldn't matter anyway, since he's lost all the chances he might have had with Mickey the moment he mentioned his job.  
  
"19 days," Mickey then says quietly, taking the redhead by surprise. Ian looks up, trying to read the emotion on his face, but Mickey is staring down at his hands in his lap, that play nervously with the hem of his shirt, "When you count together all the physical abuse me and my siblings had to endure under the roof of our psychotic father, then we're almost beaten for three weeks straight," he admits, his voice not louder than a whisper, "Almost a month of constant violence."  
  
" _Fuck_ ," is all that Ian gets out, swallowing a lump down his throat.  
  
"When I realized it, I knew I had to change something. Couldn't let this become a whole fucking year, before the motherfucker finally hit the ground," Mickey's slowly raising his head, catching Ian's gaze and laying his hands openly on the table, "Took me until his next fucking attack, though, until I packed our shit and dragged Mandy and Iggy away from that shithole. Should've done it way earlier, though."  
  
"Hey," instinctively, Ian's hand reaches out and encloses Mickey's, squeezing it lightly for reassurance, "You've done the right thing at the best possible time. Shit, he last went to prison ten years ago?"  
  
"Eleven."  
  
"Eleven fucking years. So you were a teenager back then," Ian reminds him, his skin burning at the spots that are skin on skin with Mickey, "I don't know if I've ever heard of a teenager that brave. Mandy and Iggy can count themselves lucky to have a brother like you."  
  
"Huh," Mickey bites down hard on his lips lowering his gaze again. It's then that Ian is painfully aware that he's still holding Mickey's hand in a tight grip that hasn't moved an inch underneath his. At least he didn't pull it out instantly.  
  
As much as Ian would like to keep holding Mickey's hand and reassure him, that 'everything’s gonna be okay' in the end and enjoy the warmth underneath his fingers for a bit longer, he retrieves his hand slowly.  
  
He pushes his luck, hoping for Mickey to open up and get to know him better, "So attempted murder and rape. He did this to you, his family?"  
  
Clear blue eyes snap back to his and lock in. "Me and Mandy, yeah," he confides in him, quickly looking away for the rest of the story. "He’s always beat me the most." Ian's hands ball into fists as he tries to keep his anger at bay. How can a father try to rape his own daughter and beat the shit out of his son? And why Mickey? What did he do to deserve most of his hits? This was so fucking unfair. He wished he had known the Milkoviches before, he'd definitely have given them shelter when their dad had one of his freak outs. "Iggy called the cops, otherwise we probably wouldn't be here right now."  
  
"Shit, Mickey," he sighs, his eyes getting glassy, as he thinks about the horror version of a childhood Mickey, Mandy and Iggy have had. "I'm glad you escaped that hell."  
  
"Yeah," a shy smile tugs at the corner of Mickey's mouth, before he looks at Ian again, "And now it's your turn, Gallagher."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup.. Terry is still the worst! What else is new?


	7. Chapter 7

Ian lets the depth of Mickey's words hang in the silence between them for a bit. Then he thinks out loud, "Is this your dream, Mickey? Everything you always wanted to do and achieve in your life?"  
  
The brunet huffs a laugh, before his look gets even more intense and Ian's heart starts beating like a jungle drum. He nibbles on his bottom lip, his pupils fixated on Ian's, as he's answering, "Close to, yes."  
  
Ian nods, sure that he's blushing so fucking hard under Mickey's stare and wanting to ask him, what's missing to be the 100% 'yes' - answer. But this would overstep another line and Ian had overstepped a lot already in the past three hours. Instead he decides to ask another question he's had on mind since he found this place at the end of the fucking world. "You never wanted to start the Café somewhere else, where you'd have more customers due to better reachability? You could make more money and open more restaurants like it, probably all over the world? It's unique. It has a unique feature."  
  
Mickey smiles fondly at him, "And why would I do that?"  
  
Ian shrugs, he didn't really think this idea through. But isn't being successful and making more money what everyone seems to want these days?  
  
"You know the story of a businessman who meets a fisher on his vacation, Ian?"  
  
A shiver runs down the younger man's spine when Mickey says his name. He wants him to say it again, yell it, whisper it, moan it. Fucking fuck!  
  
He shakes his head, no. Already intrigued about the way Mickey is going to tell the story, he leans forward, closer to him, catching his masculine scent combined with the sweet smell of banana pancakes.  
  
"The story is about a businessman who went on vacation to escape his everyday life and to 'recharge his batteries'," he starts, raising one brow to see if Ian's getting where this is going and why this story is so fitting. When the redhead keeps staring at him expectantly without even blinking once, Mickey continues and Ian hangs on every word he's saying.

"He flew far away to a remote place and spent a few days in a small seaside village. For a few days he watched the villagers in the community and found that a certain fisherman was the happiest of all. The businessman wanted to know why, so he finally asked the fisherman what he did every day.

The man replied that he had breakfast with his wife and children every morning after waking up. Then his children went to school, he went out fishing, and his wife painted. A few hours later he came home with enough fish for family meals and took a nap. After dinner, he and his wife went for a walk on the beach and watched the sunset as the children swam in the sea.

The businessman was stunned. 'Do you do this every day?' he asked. 

'Most of the time,' the fisherman replied. 'Sometimes we do other things, but that's usually what my life looks like.'

'And you can catch enough fish every day?' asked the businessman.

‘Yes,’ replied the fisherman, ‘there are so many fish in the sea.’

'Could you catch more fish than you take home for your family?' the businessman asked further.

The fisherman replied with a smile, 'Oh yes, I often catch a lot more and just let them free again. I love fishing, you know.' 

'But why don't you fish all day and catch as many fish as you can?' the businessman asked, 'Then you could sell the fish and make money. You could soon buy a second boat and then a third boat, employing other fishermen who also catch a lot of fish. You could set up an office in a big city in a few years, and I bet you could build an international fisheries trading company in less than ten years.'

The fisherman gave the businessman a friendly look. 'And why would I do that?'"  
  
Ian bites his tongue as he realizes that this is the same question Mickey had asked him. A little embarrassed, he listens further.  
  
"'Well, because of the money,' the businessman replied, "You would do it to make a lot of money and then retire.’

'And what would I do after I retired?' the fisherman asked him. 

'Well whatever you want,' the businessman answered. 

'Having breakfast with my family?'

'Yes, for example,' the businessman agreed, a little annoyed that the fisherman wasn't very enthusiastic about his idea.

'And since I love fishing, I could do a little fishing every day, right?'

'Yes you could,' the businessman said. 'There would probably not be that many fish left, but still enough for you to fish and take a few back home.'

'Then maybe I could spend my evenings with my wife. We could go for a walk on the beach and watch the sunset while our kids were swimming in the sea?' the fisherman questioned further. 

'Sure, anything you want. Your children will probably be all grown up then, but maybe your grandchildren like to swim too,' the businessman explained.

The fisherman smiled at him, shook his hand and wished him a good vacation."  
  
Ian has no idea how much time has passed since Mickey finished with the story, because neither said a word for a long time afterwards. The depth and meaning of the story was speaking on its own to him.  
  
"I guess I got my point across, why I don't want to expand my Café, huh, Firecrotch?"  
  
"You could say that," Ian admits, blushing, needing to to distract Mickey from the fact that he acted like the mercenary businessman, even though in reality, he's nothing like that. He just wants to have enough money for his family and pills. The only thing he'd crave in addition to that would be a man who he loves and who loves him just as much in return. Preferably with jet black hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin and knuckle tattoos.

"Has anyone ever told you how wise you are, Milkovich?" he grins teasingly, even though innerly he swoons about Mickey's wise words, "Probably just an old soul in a hot bod- _young_ body, I mean young body!" the redhead stammers embarrassed about his Freudian slip.  
  
Even if he's just made a fool out of himself, it at least earns him the brunet's wonderful laughter and a sexy eyebrow raise. "You think I'm hot?"  
  
Ian bites his tongue, feeling a flush painting his cheeks as red as his hair color. "I mean, you're obviously hot," he tries to save the situation, "Not that it's my opinion, or so."  
  
"So you _don't_ think I'm hot?" the older man asks aghast.  
  
" _What_? No!" Panic floods every cell of Ian's body, his hands gesticulating wildly around, hoping for the floor to open up and scarf him down, "You're _very_ hot, probably the hottest guy I've ever -"  
  
While he talks himself more and more into trouble, Mickey's laughter cuts him off and his pulse calms down. "You're fucking with me, right?"  
  
"Just a little bit, Gallagher," Mickey shrugs chuckling and Ian admires the crinkles around his eyes, due to his happy face. "It's cute, though."  
  
A hopeful flutter spreads in Ian's body at the word cute. A straight guy wouldn't use this word to refer to another guy, right?  
  
"I knew one of the Gallagher kids was gay. I never knew who it was, though." Mickey not once looks away saying that, planting even more expectations of his chances in the slightly confused young man.  
  
Ian tries to play it cool, "So you know my family?"  
  
"Yeah," Mickey shrugs, pushing the plate of roasted potatoes closer to Ian to remind him to eat. Ian follows his invitation right away and digs his fork into some pieces. "Colin went to school with your older sister for at least one semester and wanted to get in her panties."  
  
Ian snorts a laugh around the mush in his mouth. Everyone always wants to get in Fiona's panties. If he'd beat every guy for having dirty thoughts about his sister, he'd probably never stop kicking ass.  
  
"And I had some classes with this douchbag, uh-" Mickey snaps his fingers a few times in front of his face, before guessing, " _Philip_."  
  
"Lip," Ian corrects, smilingly, taking another bite. He has forgotten how hungry he was.  
  
"Doesn't sound any better," Mickey shrugs and Ian laughs out loud, holding his belly as he tries to regain the control of his body. "He did some homework for me, before I dropped out."  
  
"Huh," Ian muses, "must've been before I got there."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What a shame! We could've met years ago. I've missed so many witty conversations," Ian teases.  
  
"Oh, shut the fuck up," Mickey chuckles and scratches the side of his nose with his thumb, continuing while staring to the side, away from Ian's look, "Plus, we've met," he says, acting as nonchalantly as possible, "You worked in the Kash and Grab, right?"  
  
"Yeah, you've been there?" Ian raises his brows, chewing on his last potato.  
  
"Yup, a few times," the brunet admits, sucking in his lips while his eyebrows shoot high, "Stole a few snicker bars."  
  
" _Ooooh_! That was _you_ ," the redhead exclaims excitedly, "You were the reason why Kash got himself a gun."  
  
"Who the hell sold this pedophile a gun?"  
  
Ian's heart skips a beat at the word ‘pedophile’. What is Mickey referring to? He couldn't know about his past with Kash, right? He creases his forehead in confusion. "Why do you -? What do you-?"   
  
Mickey gives him a keen look, that takes Ian's breath away. He lets it consume him for a few beats, before deciding that Kash is not something he wants to talk about right now. "Nevermind," he says, taking a sip of his Coke instead, "So you've seen me?"  
  
Mickey grins. "A lanky ginger with pale skin and freckles all over? Fucking alien looking?" he asks gleefully, "No. Never seen you before."  
  
"Asshole," Ian chuckles, rolling his eyes, not even trying to deny the fluttery feeling that’s buzzing through his whole body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the anecdote of the fisher and the business man in the book. And I love it even more now that Mickey was the one telling it <3


	8. Chapter 8

When their laughter has died out, they both take a deep inhale, their eyes never leaving one another. Ian's mind wanders back to the question, their conversation, and with a quiet voice he asks Mickey, "Isn't this point of view a bit prepotent?" He says it without judgement, but Mickey is still knitting his brows confused, so Ian explains himself further, "Most people don't have the luxury of thinking about a fulfilled life or happiness. Let alone do what they wanna do."  
  
"You're right," the beautiful blue eyed man nods, seeming a bit impressed that Ian tries to put all the pieces of the puzzle together, before taking a theory for full. "But do you know what I learned on our short trip to Mexico?" he asks, having Ian's full attention, "the less opportunity for luxury, the happier the people are. Just look at our folks, man. Even though we could have everything we've ever dreamed of, people from poorer regions seem much happier than we are. With the exception of regions where there's war or exploitation, of course," he adds, impressing Ian with this explanation even more. What an intelligent man. "But there's no denying that _here_ , most people are unhappy and run after an ideal life instead of just doing what fulfills them or doing what they really wanna do."  
  
"If it's that easy, why isn't everyone doing it?"  
  
"Are _you_ doing what you wanna do?"  
  
"No, not really," he snorts, while scratching his neck embarrassingly at the feeling of being caught red handed. He's the answer to his own question.  
  
"And why not?" It sounds more like a challenge than a curious investigation.  
  
Ian gets pensive once again, trying to look back at his past with different eyes, now. "I honestly don't know," he shrugs, finding trust and encouragement in Mickey's blue eyes, "I don't know what I wanna do. Maybe _I'm_ a lost cause,” he figures. "But why do other people spend so much time preparing for their retirement, where we all can do whatever we want, instead of just doing it right now?"  
  
"Lost cause, huh?” Mickey raises his brows , "I better not get too involved with you, then," Mickey teases him, "Bad boys are no good, my mom once said."  
  
"Right," the redhead nods smilingly, "cause _I'm_ the bad boy with the 'Fuck U-Up' knuckle tattoos here."  
  
"Hey," the chef protests, "they can fuck you up in a _real_ _good way_ , though."  
  
"I bet they can," Ian admits, feeling a blush spreading on his face.  
  
It's then again, when a full tensed silence builds between them and neither of them is able to break the gaze, until Mickey bites down his bottom lip and swipes his tongue over that spot, and Ian's attention is fully drawn to that magical happening. He can't look away, he wants to swipe his own tongue over these full lips so badly.  
  
It's only when they start to speak again, that his focus shifts back on the whole face, "It's because of those fucking subtle messages that are thrown at us every day by the media and advertising," he scrunches his face a little with anger, disguising his own voice, "'If you have this fucking thing and that fucking thing, you will be happy and live a better life. And if you don't have it, you fucking suck and can never be happy'," Ian has to laugh at this, even though in reality it isn't funny at all. It's a lie that leads everyone to misery, "If we don't question this shit critically, we're going to believe it, that happiness and fulfillment can be achieved through a product or service. Which leads us to the next fucking problem," he pauses dramatically, waiting for Ian to jump on his train of thought.  
  
Which he does. "That things cost money and we have to work for that?"  
  
"Yup. And this gradually leads us into a financial position where we feel like having to go on like this, even though we don't fucking want to."  
  
"Then people start dreaming of their retirement," Ian muses.  
  
"Exactly!" Mickey points at him proudly as if he's won the lottery. "People keep telling themselves that at some point they will do whatever they want. And until then, they'll buy more things to make their time easier, which makes them even more dependent on money. It's a fucking doom-loop."  
  
"Seems like it," Ian guesses, thinking about his own situation in this scenario. "Honesty, I just wanna have enough money to support my family with the bills and pay my own for my medication. Otherwise, I just want to live."  
  
He's laid it out. He's given Mickey the opportunity to ask about the meds and his illness. But he doesn't. The brunet continues with their conversation about life.  
  
"And that only works as a dancer in the Fairy Tale?" he challenges him with his sarcasm, drawing a huff out of the redhead.  
  
"Probably not."  
  
"Yeah," the brunet confirms, "probably not." He smiles at Ian, sparking a hope in him that everything is possible, that Ian can achieve everything he dreams of. With this little smile alone, Ian suddenly feels brave and capable to go for his wishes and be happy for once. Right now, the only wish he's craving, is to kiss this man in front of him. And this wish seems to get stronger with every passing second.  
  
"What do you wanna do in life, Ian?" Mickey's question tears him out of his Mickey-trance. Never had anyone ever asked Ian what _he_ wants. As the middle kid, he was always forced to adapt himself to the situation. Lip and Fiona made the rules, and he always had to have an eye on his younger siblings. If Debbie and Carl needed to get to school, and Fiona was late for work, he had to bring them there. If Liam needed diapers and Lip was busy with school, he had to go and buy some. Never had anyone ever asked him what he wants to do. If he wanted to go out, but his little siblings needed someone to watch them, he had to throw his plans out the door, because his two older siblings tried to establish themselves. And it was always okay. He never said something, because he understood. But it's a pleasant change, to be someone's main focus for once.  
  
"I wanna find someone to spend my life with," he says with a slight nod at Mickey, catching the other one biting his lip again. God, how he wants to be that lip. He can swear he sees a little flush on the other man's face, hoping for it to be an indicator for his sexual orientation. Ian is already pretty sure that his chances of Mickey being gay aren't so bad. At least he catches him staring at Ian sometimes, when the other man pretends he isn't looking. And the brunet is also sending some flirting vibes every now and then. Next question is, if he's single or even interested in the redhead, though. "Isn't that what all people want?"  
  
"No," the chef hits an invisible punch with this answer, "some people just want to climb higher and higher up the working ladder, but I guess the majority wants both. A steady job that makes them happy _and_ a partner."  
  
"Do you want both, Mick?"  
  
"I have the job I want."  
  
"And about the other thing?" he questions bravely, feeling his heart rate speeding up.  
  
A shy smile twitches at the corners of Mickey's mouth, before his ocean blue eyes land on Ian. "I guess I never asked myself that,“ he swallows dryly, his gaze fixing Ian’s pupils, " _before_."  
  
Before _what_? Before this conversation or before _Ian_?  
  
The question is already on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out and hoping for the answer to be the healing balm to his wound soul. He wants it so badly. _Him_. Wishes to be the desire of Mickey’s dream, himself. But of course he can't ask that. Can’t push Mickey into a specific corner especially that fast, when in reality they barely know each other. Even though his heart is telling him otherwise. So he simply goes with, "Just like I never asked myself what I wanna do or why I'm here."

Mickey's tongue swipes over his lower lip. "Just go easy on yourself, man," he starts, placing his hands in front of Ian on the table. "Take a little more time for yourself each week and do things that you really wanna do, things you enjoy. Read something, go for a walk, work out, paint, listen to music. Do whatever the fuck you wanna do." The redhead smiles. Probably no one ever sounded so clever and wise while cursing all the time. "You'll see that one hour will turn to two, then three. You'll be buzzed with a shit ton of energy and visions, and before you know it, you'll focus on doing things you wanna do." 

"And that will answer the question, 'Why am I here?' then?" Ian asks.

"Bet my ass it will." 

Ian grins, sparked with a new vitality and hope. Just as Ian wants to make a witty remark about betting Mickey's sexy ass on things, the latter one continues, "Also bet my ass, that your pancakes are getting cold." 

"And _I_ bet my ass that they're still the best pancakes I've ever had," he flirts, but also not, cause he's sure it's the truth. He digs his fork into the fluffy pastry and wraps his lips around it, his eyes watching Mickey as his pupils seem glued to Ian's mouth. " _Mhmm_ ," he moans just a bit too sexy for teasing purposes, seeing Mickey swallowing hard. _Definitely gay_ , Ian cheers innerly, a smile lighting up his whole face. 

"And _I_ bet my ass you're a noisy motherfucker in bed," Mandy throws in as she magically appears beside their table. 

" _Mandy_ ," her brother hisses. 

"What?" she asks nonchalantly, "You like 'em loud, asshole." 

Ian's heart skips a few beats, only to start thrumming loudly. If nothing else would've worked, this definitely is his needed confirmation about Mickey's sexual orientation. 

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, as he finds Mickey blushing. The chef clenches his jaw, slides his tongue over his teeth before clicking it loudly, "I'm gonna take a piss," he mutters and gets up to leave. Ian’s eyes following him until he’s completely out of sight.


	9. Chapter 9

Just as quickly as Mickey slides out, Mandy slides in. "You like my brother, huh?" she asks, taking him fully by surprise. 

"Uh.. _Yeah_?” he says, not sure if it's a trap, "He's nice and a good cook." He stuffs almost a whole pancake into his mouth to escape the conversation from going any further or adding that her brother looks gorgeous and has the best fucking ass he's ever seen and that he wants to devour his lips and tear his clothes off. But Mandy's probably better off without this knowledge. 

"Yeah and you're a terrible liar," she remarks with a smirk, "Mickey isn’t _nice._ But whatever,“ she shrugs him off, rolling her eyes as if Ian’s the most obvious person in the world. Then she clicks her tongue, "Did you guys already have the death-conversation?" 

"The _what_?" Ian chokes on a few crumbs by inhaling too quickly. He takes a gulp of his water and clears his throat. 

The brunet girl points at the second question on the menu. 

_Are you afraid of death?_

"My head is already dizzy from all the answers I got on the first one," he says, falling back into his red vinyl seat, "I honestly don't know if I can take this one, too." 

Mandy chuckles, "I'm pretty sure that you being dizzy has nothing to do with these questions." 

Well, she has a point. 

But he bites his tongue and says nothing. His silence was answer enough. 

"Anyway, the first question has something to do with it." 

"How?" he takes another bite of the delicious banana chocolate-chip pancakes and listens closely to Mandy, who's threading her hair around her finger. 

"The majority of people are afraid of death. It's even the most common fear among people." With Mickey's abandoned fork, she steals one bite of his plate, "Mhmmm, love Mickey's pancakes, " she says, closing her eyes and enjoying the taste, "So, Ian," she chews heavily around, "what do you think they're afraid of?"

The redhead stops eating, to ponder about it for a moment, "Huh. To not be here anymore? To not see what's happening anymore or be able to do something?" 

"Exactly," the waitress exclaims excitedly, "People who had never asked themselves the first question, or have done anything to get to know the purpose of their existence, those people are afraid to die. They unconsciously know that with each passing day they have one less day to do what they want in life," she states, leaning back into her seat. "However, there's no fear of being unable to do something if you've already done it or do it every day."

Ian breathes deeply through his nostrils, agreeing flatly, "Sounds logical." 

"It is," she nods, "and it's already all there is to the second question." 

The redhead raises his brows amazed, "That's it?" 

"Yup," Mandy drums on the table, "are you ready for the last one?" 

Ian takes the last bite of his pancakes, letting the taste consume him for a moment before leaning closer to her, "Don't know, am I?" 

"You are," she decides, smiling happily at him. She clears her throat and asks the least question on the menu, "Do you have a fulfilled life, Ian?" 

Just as Ian is weighing his options of if he's not living a fulfilled life, Mickey steps out of the bathroom again, looking breathtakingly beautiful as ever. Ian decides that there was definitely something missing in his life before coming into this restaurant. Something or someone, he knows he won't be able to let go anymore. When the brunet man steps behind the bar, his eyes immediately travel to Ian. It sends butterflies off in the pit of his stomach and he's sure that whatever led him here tonight has something to do with fate. With every passing second that he spends in the presence of this man, it gets clearer to him that they are meant to be. He just hopes it's clear as day for Mickey, as well. 

It seems as if this question was more a rhetorical one since Mandy doesn't really wait for an answer, continuing with her own thoughts on it and pulling his focus back on her. "As long as you only know why you are here, but don't act accordingly, you won't find fulfillment in life."

"But what if I can't do what I wanna do? If I'm not good at it or can't find a job in the field? What then? How would I live and pay the bills?"

"If you want to do something that you can't do yet, you will be so enthusiastic about just the idea of doing it, that you'll learn it step by step," she explains, as if it's the most logical thing in the world. "Do you think that people who are enthusiastic about something have a lot of difficulties finding work?" she asks him, leaning closer again. 

"No?"

"No," Mandy claps her hands, "because they're so positive and energetic that everyone wants to get advice from them."

"Just like me right now," he smiles at her, thinking that even after everything she went through, she might be the most positive person he knows. 

"Just like you," she agrees with a nod. "you know, through my work here in this Café, I noticed some general things about people. Those who know their purpose of existence or realize more and more what they want not only seem very happy, but also experience unexpected random and beautiful things when they need them the most," she winks at him, and Ian is completely astonished. _How does she know?_ He truly needed this - exactly this! What happened to be a worst case scenario a few hours ago turned out to be the most beautiful thing that's ever happened to him. 

He doesn't even notice that Mandy is holding his hand across the table. He's so deeply immersed in his own thoughts about the life he could have that only Mickey walking up to them can tear him out of his daydream. It's then when realization hits him and mixes with need and desire. He knows exactly what his heart craves. 

"Yo, douchebag," Mickey punches her shoulder lightly, "I'm pretty sure Gallagher is able to eat his food, without your grabby hands fumbling all over him." 

Ian smirks happily because jealous Mickey is really something to look at. His eyebrows are raised in irritation, his bottom lip sucked in to nibble at it. It's freaking adorable. 

Mandy just huffs a laugh shooting daggers at her brother with her look. "Really, Mick?!" 

"Just..." he waves with his hands, indicating for her to get off the seat, "move, bitch."

With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she lets go of Ian's hand and gets up. "So possessive," she mumbles with another wink at Ian, before walking back to the bar, leaving a completely happy Ian behind. 

The moment Mickey plops down on the newly vacated seat, he shoves Ian the bowl of cereal across the table, "Eat," he says, watching Ian as he still happily grins at him, "and get that dopey smile off your face."

"You like my smile, Mickey," the redhead states bold, since he decided that nothing's gonna stop him anymore, now. 

It's the blue eyed man’s turn to emit a soft chuckle, locking his dreamily gaze, "Maybe I do." 

"Yeah," Ian agrees, pleased, taking the spoon and digging in his cereal, "maybe you do." 

"Hey, Mickey," he chews around his fruity cereal, "why did you write these questions on the menu? What inspired you to do it?" 

"You're a nosy motherfucker, Gallagher," Mickey chuckles and Ian shrugs innocently. 

"It's how conversation works, Mickey. Or did you just come here to watch me eat my meal? One of the best I've ever eaten, by the way." He stuffs another spoonful of cereal in his mouth, which is not stopping him to grin at his crush. 

" _Ugh_ ," he sighs, trying to look annoyed, but failing all the way, "whatever. You wouldn't shut up anyway." 

The redhead smiles sweetly at him, "You already know me inside out." 

"Alright," Mickey scoots closer to the table, accepting the second spoon Ian hands him and taking a bite of his own homemade muesli. "It was when we were in Mexico," he starts with the story and Ian is once again fully intrigued, "one evening, after we had a good day at the beach, Mands and me were sitting on a stone, watching a sunset and how the waves broke on some rocks." He made a short pause, his cheeks looking flushed a bit, "I know this sounds gay, but suddenly, me and my problems felt so small. The sun has been rising and falling right there on that spot for millions of years already and will continue to do so long after I've died," It's as if this memory alone sparks something in Mickey that gives him the special look of excitement, blazed in his eyes. Ian is gone on him. "All of my decisions, my fears, my worries - all seemed completely unimportant at that moment. The world would exist long after my death and so I asked myself, why am I actually here? If all the things I thought were so important in reality weren't, what's important then? What is the purpose of my existence? Why am I here?"

" _Huh_ ," Ian muses, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms in front of his chest, "that's deep." 

Mickey stares at him perplexed for a beat, before bursting out laughing, "You're an asshole." 

The redhead joins his laughter, giggling so hard that he has to hold his belly. He feels free, he feels hopeful, he feels alive. 

"Now that's an Ian Gallagher I like to see," Mandy says as she steps up to his booth with two cups of coffee, one sliding to Mickey, the other placing in front of him, while both of them are still laughing, "You look totally different from when you first set a foot in this Café."

"Yeah," he breathes, trying to calm back down from his laughter while his eyes remain on the brunet, "I feel way better."

"Good," she says, smiling happily at him, "never forget, everyone determines his own destiny. We all control every moment of our life ourselves. Only you alone really know what you want to do with your life. Never allow other people or things to bring you down to a point where you feel you can no longer determine your own destiny. Choose your own path," she reminds him, "and ask yourself: Which path do you want to take from now on?"

With one last eyebrow-raise at him, she's gone, taking the empty plates away and leaving him, Mickey, two cups of coffee, an apple pie - the last remainder of his breakfast - and the unanswered question behind. 

"Look," Mickey starts, earning Ian's full attention, "I know tonight was a lot. You don't have to figure your shit out that quick, it's a process." He looks Ian deeply in the eyes, before continuing, "Just pay attention to signs when you try to figure out your purpose of existence. Some people find that some ideas and experiences resonate within. Many people even experience a physical reaction to some shit. Like, a cold shiver that runs down their spine, or they feel fucking electrified, get goosebumps all over their body or whatever. In any case, it should give you a fucking good feeling. It should feel right for you."

"Well," Ian says, biting his lip and smiling shyly, "I think _you're_ the purpose of my existence, then." 

His heart is pounding heavily against his chest, as he feels a blush overcoming him. Green is still locked with blue, trying to interpret the other man's blank look. Maybe he went too far too fast? He’s only known Mickey for what, 4 hours? 6 hours? Or 8? Time seems to have stopped since the moment he first laid his eyes on the beautiful man, who still looks shocked about Ian's outburst of feelings. 

But then, finally, Mickey's lips twitch to a smile and a slight flush is painting his cheeks pink. He quickly nods at Ian, "Where did you wanna go when you came here?" 

It isn't exactly the answer Ian had hoped for, but at least Mickey doesn't get up and leave him behind. "To Lake Michigan," he says, taking a sip of his coffee. "I felt like I needed a break to get away from it all. I wanted to be able to think, even though I had no idea about what exactly. But in the last-" he checks the clock, realizing that it's almost 7:00 in the morning. Time to take his pills and already time to have breakfast. Again. "...7 hours I've gotten some pretty good suggestions that I could think about." He digs his fork into the apple pie, shoving the plate into the middle of the table. 

Mickey nods, taking a big gulp of his coffee before placing it in front of him and wrapping his hands around the hot mug. Ian watches him suck in his bottom lip, a habit the redhead has become addicted to in the last few hours, before shiny blue eyes land on him again. "Would you like some company, Ian?" 

Ian's heart starts thrumming wildly in his chest, while endorphins seem to flood his whole body. He can't help his smile from spreading and almost splitting his freckled face in two. "Is this a date?" he asks teasingly, hoping for the answer to be a 'yes'. 

Huffing a laugh at the insatiable dork that Ian is, the brunet takes one look around his Café, before leaning back into his seat and smiling peacefully at Ian. "I'm pretty sure it's more than a date." 

Ian won't argue with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of fucking course they are each other's purpose of existence. Wasn't that big of a plot twist, right? :-D


	10. Chapter 10

Both are grinning stupidly at each other while they finish their cups of coffee and their shared apple pie, chatting about some casual things for a change. It's then that Ian hears the bells above the entrance ringing. A blonde man and a small blonde woman step inside. 

"Yo, shithead's, change of shifts!" he yells, stepping up to Ian's and Mickey's booth. 

"Ian," Mickey says with raised brows, "meet my idiot brother, Iggy and his wife Kate."

"What's up, bro?" Iggy asks as he high-fives Ian, before Kate waves him hello. 

"I'm good," Ian says dreamily, his eyes once again finding his crush, "never been so good before, actually." 

It's cute how he finds Mickey blushing at that and abusing his lower lip again. After a night of constantly nibbling on it, Ian just wants to kiss it better. He already knows those full lips and that ass are going to be the death of him. 

"Sweet," Iggy shrugs, patting his brother's shoulder while Kate heads to Mandy at the bar, "You like redheads, Mick," he says, getting the brunet to pinch the brick of his nose with a desperate sigh, "Might wanna go for this one, I've got a good feeling."

With that he turns on his heels and leaves to the bar. 

"Yeah, go for this one, Mick," Ian encourages him, giggling. 

"Oh shut the fuck up," the chef warns, but neither his face nor his tone are an actual threat to Ian, "otherwise you'll drive alone to Lake Michigan." 

"Yeah, about _that_ ," Ian says, taking another sip of his coffee, "how many vacation days do you have left? I might wanna expand my little trip with you." 

"You wanna expand the trip, huh? Where to?" 

"Uhm, around the world maybe?" 

"Around the world?" 

"Yeah, you wanna repeat everything I say from now on?" 

Mickey flips him off, as Ian smiles cheesily. 

"You choose," Ian says, "cause you already know I'll follow you anywhere." 

"Like a lost puppy, huh?" Mickey snorts, not seeming unhappy about it, though. 

"Like a _lovesick_ puppy," the redhead corrects, not even a bit ashamed of his blooming feelings. And when it earns him the most beautiful smile in return, he could not be happier. 

"Damn, Gallagher," the smaller man chuckles, "you really need to work on your pick-up lines." 

"It worked, though, didn't it?"

Mickey clicks his tongue, shooting him a challenging look that tells Ian that he's so full of himself, before admitting, "Yeah, got me fucking puppy whipped, already."

"I'm gonna make it my goal, that the next time you say it, you'll say 'dick-whipped' instead of 'puppy-whipped'. Just for the record." 

"Fucking hope you will," Mickey says, his beautiful smile never leaving his face. 

Both take another sip of their coffee, while enjoying the wonderful and electrified silence, as their laughter ebbs away. "Soooo.. About the vacation days?" Ian asks and Mickey snorts another laugh. 

"This is my fucking Café, Gallagher, I can take as many free days as I want." 

Ian's smile spreads wider, his heart dancing its own Mickey dance by now. “Now that's a bonus when you sleep with the boss," he says. 

"Right now, you haven't slept with anyone here,” Mickey counters, clicking his tongue and looking around, "Or at least I fucking hope so.” 

Ian closes his eyes dramatically while grinning, "Asshole.” 

“Yeah, so you wanna chit chat some more or -" 

"OR!" Ian exclaims, shifting excitedly to get out of the booth, and throwing some cash into the middle of the table, "definitely _or_!" 

Chuckling, Mickey is rolling his eyes at him, "You have zero chill, man. We need to work on that as well." 

"Yeah," Ian agrees, coming to a stand in front of Mickey. It's the first time they are so close, face to face, without the table separating them. It makes his pulse speed up. He leans closer, whispering, "we'll definitely do that, but first you need to work on _me_." 

Mickey takes another step towards the taller man, tilting his neck slightly upwards and already closing his eyes, when - 

"Yo shitheads, you're still here?" 

" _Iggy_ , I fucking swear to god," Mickey curses at his brother, taking one step back when Mandy is welcoming herself to the fucking party, too. 

"Hey Ian, it was nice to meet you," she says, slinging her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. 

Just when he wants to snuggle into her comfortable embrace as well, he hears his crush getting grumpy and impatient beside him, "Yo, Octopussy, your time's up!" 

Mandy rolls her eyes only half-heartedly annoyed, "So possessive," she mumbles, again. "Even though he's an asshole, I still want him back in one piece." 

"Got it," Ian nods, pushing his hands into his pockets, "I will keep him safe and not break his heart." 

"His heart? Who's talking about that crap? I meant that it's obvious you're packing nine inches down there, so don't rip him apart," she winks at him, making Ian shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

"Go and fucking die, Mandy!" Mickey spits while in a full blush and Ian is sure this guy can say whatever fucked up shit he wants and still be the cutest man in town. Or more like the world. 

"Alright, alright, gonna leave you two lovebirds at it now," she says, already on her heels to turn around.

"Hey, Mandy," Ian stops her with his hands on her elbow, needing to tell her something, "You've got a special place, here,” he says, "Thanks for the talk."

"You're welcome," she smiles brightly at him, " _That's what we're here for._ " 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue left. I don't wanna leave this universe, yet. Loved writing this so much <3
> 
> A big thanks to each and every comment I'm receiving. They make me so happy!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, this is the end.
> 
> I can't believe I leave this universe behind, since the story means so much to me. But I wanted to thank each and everyone who commented and gave kudos during the ride. I enjoyed this journey with you and always loved hearing your thoughts on each chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the epilogue.
> 
> Stay safe,
> 
> xoxo
> 
> -J.
> 
> Ps.: Special thanks to @Erikutta again, for helping me to make this story even better for you.

Six months later... 

" _Fuck_ ," Mickey sighs desperately as he rides Ian harder into the couch of his apartment that he shares with Mandy, who's luckily on shift with Iggy, "so proud of you," he mutters, his eyes closing with his new roll of hips, "knew you'd make it." 

"Yeah?" Ian whines, digging his fingernails deeper into the flesh of Mickey's ass, his now favorite place for his hands to rest. His eyes dart from his dick, that's swallowed by Mickey's wonderfully tight ass to his ocean blue eyes, that will forever remind him of the time they spent together on various beaches all around the world, but especially of the water on the Matira Beach in Tahiti, the clearest blue water he's ever seen. 

They traveled for almost three months, with just their backpacks and nothing more. They didn't need much more - they had each other. It was such an intense time getting to know each other over many deep conversations about life that surprisingly, even after so many days of being in constant closeness, they didn't ever want to separate. It's since then that Ian practically lives with Mickey and Mandy here, having quit his job at the Fairy Tale and studying in Mickey's bedroom of the apartment or the Café for his GED. Because already after two weeks of more conversations with his man, he suddenly knew exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to help other people and become an EMT and the first step to admittance into an EMT program is to get his GED. Mickey had supported him since then with his 'everything's fucking possible' attitude and his big heart that Ian is glad to own. 

It's because of him, that he's received his GED certificate today and is allowed to start classes within the next month. Ian would've never dreamed this could come true since he thought his disorder would always be the deal-breaker. But Mickey had pushed him over and over again to 'get his shit together, nut the fuck up, and show them what a tough motherfucker‘ he is. And so he did. 

"Yeah, so fucking proud," he confirms again, while pushing himself up and riding just Ian's tip, knowing all too well that this is driving the younger man crazy. Not only have they learned almost everything there is to know about each other in their time far away from home, but also studied each other’s bodies to perfection. They fucked every day, mostly even two or three times since they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Or as Ian likes to call it - they made love on the most beautiful places on earth. 

"Shit Mickey, you know I'm not gonna last like this," Ian punches out a moan, as Mickey keeps teasing him. Being engulfed by Mickey is the best feeling there is for Ian, and he sometimes even enjoys giving him all of the control, like right now. Although it's mostly Mickey who wants to be manhandled roughly and fucked good and hard. 

Ian has kept his promise, because after their first time in Mickey's apartment, the brunet was dick whipped and fucking addicted to Ian's nine inches. What fucking luck! 

"Don't worry, this won't be the last time you're cumming, today," the brunet grins mischievously down at him, making circling moves around Ian's sensitive head. 

" _Fuuuuck_ -" Ian whimpers, taking Mickey's hips in a hard grip and slamming him down on his lap, while buckling his hips upwards. 

That emits several cries of pleasure from his man whose body is spasming haphazardly at the jolt of endorphins that rush through him with every jab of Ian's dick against his prostate. "Right there," he begs, his brows knitted as he sucks his bottom lip in, "right fucking there, Ian." 

One of the redhead's hands wanders up to his face, his thumb freeing Mickey's plump lip from his nibbling teeth, and pushing his digit in instead, to give him something to suck on. Mickey starts instantly moaning around Ian's finger, while grinding his hips harder down. "Fuck, don't stop -" he pleads, completely lost in the rhythm of their bodies, obviously not able to think straight anymore if he really believes Ian has any intention to stop. 

He glances down at the throbbing red dick, that shoves over Ian's public hair and hard abs with every movement they both create, ready to spill the seed. "Fuck, I wanna taste you," he admits, as his eyes keep staring at the little drops of precum that are smeared on his skin. 

The brunet chuckles brokenly before swiping his own thumb over the leaking slit and giving his man a taste. 

" _Mhmmm_ ," Ian moans, his own thumb already slipped out of Mickey's mouth and is curled with his hand around Mickey's throat. "More," he demands. 

"Fucking-" the brunet pants, completely out of breath already, as Ian's dick mercilessly keeps ramming his sweet spot, "give me your load and I’ll give you mine." 

Nothing easier than that, Ian thinks, as he lays his other hand around Mickey's throat, who's own hands wrap instantly around Ian's wrists for leverage, and Ian starts pounding his lover's ass hard and fast, Mickey's dick rubbing quickly on the skin beneath their heated bodies. 

"Fucking fuck," Mickey cries, overwhelmed by the intensity of Ian's movements, who's himself close to falling over the edge, and the slight squeeze around his throat. 

Mickey's walls are so sweetly constricting around him already, that he feels the prickling in his guts spreading and his balls tightening. "Shit Mickey, feels so fucking good. Gonna-" he pants, once again speeding up his pace, "gonna fill you up now." 

He pulls on Mickey's neck, making him crash forwards, right onto his lips, before devouring his tongue and moaning his orgasm into his mouth with a desperate shout of, " _Mickey_!" 

Both are absorbing their pants, as Ian keeps thrusting, more haphazardly than his controlled pulses from before, while his load keeps shooting inside his lover's ass, coating his walls and filling him with warmth. 

"I fucking feel it," Mickey moans, detaching himself an inch from Ian's lips, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, "holy shit! Feels so good." 

Just as Ian wants to reach down to help him find his release as well, Mickey punches out a "Don't!" So Ian's hands wander further to his ass, spreading his cheeks wide and giving him an extra stretch on his hole. The brunet keens, convulsing even more around Ian's pulsing dick, digging his fingernails into Ian's shoulders. "Close," he whimpers, rocking back and forth while Ian hammers into him. When his fingers crawl closer and closer to the worn out hole, that Ian still keeps under a good stretch, and his first digit land on the puckered flesh, Mickey's whole body twitches electrified, "Gonna cum!" 

Ian fucks hard into him for two more measured thrusts, before he pushes him off his dick and angles his hips upwards to close his mouth around his length and suck the semen out of him. The brunet is a writhing mess in Ian's arms as he orgasms down his man's throat and curses loudly until Ian has sucked him clean. 

"God damn it, Gallagher, you should be allowed to get your GED more than once," Mickey chuckles as he calms down, his dick still in Ian's mouth. 

The redhead licks one more time around his head, before he lets it slide out of his lips. "EMT exams, next," he winks at his man, who's slowly getting up and starts dressing himself. "What are you doing? I thought I'm gonna cum more than once, today."

The blue eyed man rolls his eyes, "Calm your tits, you will," he says as he picks up Ian's clothes from the floor and throws it to him, "but first I got something for you." 

"You got something for me?" Ian's whole face lights up and suddenly he's hurrying to get into his pants, "Like a present?" 

Mickey's eyes take another roll around, when he slips inside his shirt, "You're such a dork. You're probably a five year old in the body of an adult."

"What does this say about you, then?" 

"Fuck off," he chuckles, slipping on his shoes, "it's not exactly a present.” 

Ian's already fully dressed and ready to go waiting for Mickey to get on with it. "Now I'm even more curious about it." 

"Jesus Christ, now your expectations are definitely too high for this shit." 

"Are you there?" 

Mickey knits his brows in confusion, "Of fucking course I'm there. I'm getting you to this shit." 

"Then it's already perfect," the redhead smiles cheesily at him. 

"Gay," the older one chides as he goes for his keys and opens the door for a happy Ian to step out. 

"Where are we going?" Ian asks excited with the patience of a toddler, "To the Café?"

"Yeah, I need to pick something up," Mickey explains as they round the corner and head towards his restaurant. 

"And what?" 

"Jesus Christ, are we playing twenty fucking questions, here?" the brunet asks as they arrive at the Café that changed Ian's life for the better six months ago. 

He opens the door and the three bells above announce their arrival before a pack of Gallaghers, Milkovichs, and Balls spring out of the corner and from behind the bar. 

"SURPRISE!" they scream, and it's only then that Ian notices the big 'Congratulations, Ian' banner on the wall. His eyes get teary while confetti is thrown at him and everyone congratulates him with a hug. 

"You did it, Ian!" 

"So proud of you, Ian!" 

"Knew you would make it, man." 

Ian takes in all the compliments, letting himself be consumed by it. Usually the Gallaghers probably wouldn't have thrown a party for getting a GED, but first, it was probably Mickey who did this, and second, for Ian it’s a huge step. The moment he was diagnosed with bipolar, life somehow ended for him. He thought he would never be able to get a good job, let alone a job he enjoys. He also believed that no one would ever be able to love him, knowing about his illness and what this would mean for a relationship. But then he met Mandy and Mickey, and his whole world changed. 

The only thing Mickey said when Ian told him about his disease on their third day of the trip was, 'That's fucked up, man.' When Ian asked, 'That's it? That's all your gonna say to it?' Mickey just shrugged and told him that they all have some shit to deal with. Ian was stunned to silence, glad that it didn't seem to change a thing for the guy he so quickly fell in love with. But what made him truly happy was that Mickey started to arm himself with knowledge from books and the internet on how to deal with the disorder as a partner. What he could do to help Ian in low lows and high highs. It was the first time since his diagnosis he felt that, ' _Everything's gonna be okay_ ' regarding his mental illness. 

"You did this for me?" he asks with glassy eyes as he turns around to the love of his life. 

"Yeah," Mickey shrugs, his hands shoved deep down in his pockets, shifting nervously from foot to foot, "your present is a bunch of fucking Gallaghers, _surprise_!" 

Ian steps closer, his arms wrapping around his hips to get him as near as possible. He blinks some tears away, leaning down and connecting their foreheads. "It's the biggest and best present I've ever received," he sniffs, nudging his nose against Mickey's. 

"Stop being such a sap, they're all idiots," the brunet counters, his way of saying, 'You're welcome.' 

"Yeah, and you're mine," Ian says smiling, leaning the last remaining inch down and capturing his lips in a kiss. In an instant, Mickey's mouth opens and lets Ian's tongue slide in giving him the special taste he craves. The kiss is soft, gentle, but not less passionate. It sends a tingling down Ian's spine, whenever their tongues mingle and he feels all consumed by the man in his arms. "I love you," he whispers into his mouth, pecking his lips one last time. 

"Yeah, I know," Mickey says, cradling the short hair on the backside of his neck, "Love you, too." 

He then claps Ian on the right side of his chest, telling him to go talk to his family. He hasn't seen them in a few weeks - actually, he had only seen them twice since his magical night in this diner six months ago. First, his family worried about his spontaneous decision to quit his job and travel with a man he barely knew around the world for a few months. But Ian checked in with his doctor and showed them the written proof of his sanity. He was sad that he had to do it. That when he acts spontaneous and crazy in love for once, everyone thinks of him being manic. But he didn't want it to cloud his good mood, Mandy's voice resonating in him, " _We all control every moment of our life ourselves. Only you alone really know what you want to do with your life. Never allow other people or things to bring you down to a point where you feel you can no longer determine your own destiny. Choose your own path._ "

And so he did. And with each passing day and Ian calling every other day to check in with his siblings, they started to worry less. They began to trust Mickey and trust _him_ , especially when he told them his idea of becoming an EMT. 

Today, they all congratulate him, and his big sister even gave him the biggest of all compliments, "You're no Monica. You're handling this way better than her." 

And even though Ian misses Monica a lot, he's still proud of himself that he doesn't let his illness control his life and decisions, like it did with her. He's over the moon that Mickey arranged this little party for him, since he was never allowed to be the center of anyone's attention as the middle kid. But today he was. And he was damn proud of himself and the life he chose to live. He doesn't know what made him so lucky to have come across a way too aggressive customer in the Fairy Tale that he needed to head butt, to make him shut up. Or for Floyd's decision to give him the night off. Or for the truck with the toxic cargo to tip over. Or for his decision to take exactly the route he took that led him to the Café at the end of the fucking world. He is just damn thankful about it.

He's never been so happy at any point in his life, not even back in the day when he and his family spent a day at the beach of Lake Michigan. The fear that Monica will leave them again, was always slumbering anywhere inside of him. But not now. There’s no fear, just confidence. He broke free, and all because of Mickey. 

He walks over to his man, who was standing behind the bar, handing Kev a beer. Completely familiar with his environment here, Ian pours Lip and himself one as well before setting it aside and turning to his man, nuzzling his neck. "Let's go to the bathroom," he whispers, slightly rubbing his groin on Mickey's hips, “You still owe me a few orgasms.”

"You just drew two beers," Mickey raises his brows at him, but Ian can see his idea working its way inside. 

"I like my beer warm." 

" _Ew_ , no one likes that!" 

"I can be quick," he changes his strategy, rutting a bit harder, while sucking on Mickey's earlobe. He knows his lover wouldn't stand a chance like that. 

"I don't want you to be quick," the brunet admits, turning his face to capture Ian's lips shortly, "We could go to my apartment, it's right around the corner." 

"Nothing’s ever right around the corner of this Café," the redhead sighs dramatically.

Mickey huffs a laugh, punching his shoulder lightly. "Well, my apartment _is_ literally right around the corner, you dick." 

The older one takes a step back, before Ian reaches for his hand, interlacing their fingers, not wanting to be separated again, "Yeah but you share it with Mandy," he says, his tone a little defeat. 

"But Mandy‘s here right now," Mickey shrugs, scanning the room for his little sister, "eyefucking your douchebag of a brother." 

"Yeah but-"

"Okay Gallagher, spit it out," the older one cuts in, "you're giving me a fucking migrane here. _do_ you or do you _not_ want to fuck me?" 

"I just thought," Ian starts hesitantly, his fingers beginning to trace Mickey's knuckle tattoos and his eyes following that movement, "that maybe," he draws it out, "like eventually-" 

" _Ian_!" 

"We could get our own apartment?" It's then when he looks back up and smiles sweetly at his man, hoping not to have overstepped an invisible line, Mickey's mouth gapes open, his eyes are shining as blue as the ocean. For a few seconds Ian thinks that maybe Mickey has transformed into a statue, but then his tongue darts out and brings life back into his frozen body. 

"That what you want?" he asks, locking Ian's insecure gaze. 

"Uh, yeah? I don't know, I mean, only if you're -" 

"No. Is that what _you_ want, Ian?" 

A smile tugs at the corner of Ian's mouth, as he realizes the reason why Mickey is questioning this. "Yes," he answers, stepping back up to his man and embracing him with his freckled arms, "being with you is _all_ I want." 

"Good," Mickey mutters, slinging his hands around Ian's waist, "cause that's what I fucking want, too." 

His heart is thumping wildly in his chest as he can't stop his smile from filling his whole face. He's already leaning down to capture Mickey's lips, when he hears Mandy asking his brother a question, 

"So Lip, why are you here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please chat with me one last time about it, I'd love to hear your thoughts <3
> 
> Alright guys, and now let me ask you something real quick:
> 
> Why are you here? :)


End file.
